


Disappearing

by nondescriptusername



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Pining, Post-Episode: e018 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place, at least for right now, juno steel's patented unhealthy coping mechanisms, not as much as it hurt these two thougn, the most self-sacrificing idiots on mars, there's no way peter nureyev has been through that much trauma and doesn't have nightmares, this season finale hurt me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondescriptusername/pseuds/nondescriptusername
Summary: Peter wakes up to an empty bed, and goes looking for the lady who's supposed to be in it.





	Disappearing

**Author's Note:**

> I tried dealing with the distinct lack of Nureyev in the second season by re-listening to the first season, and instead it just stirred up a whole lot of Jupeter feelings and a drabble about how Peter dealt with waking up to an empty bed. Sorry.

Peter woke abruptly, cold sweat coating his bare skin.

He’d been dreaming, he realized now, though it had seemed real enough moments ago. He’d been on the other side of that damned airlock door, just like he’d been hours earlier, futilely beating his fists against the adamantium-reinforced door as he heard the sound of Miasma’s tentacles and Juno’s laser fire be overtaken by the overwhelming sounds of wind and screeching metal. He’d called out Juno’s name as he beat his hands bloody on the unrelenting metal, begging him to open it, unable to care that getting the door open would likely mean his death and the deaths of everyone on Mars as well. All that had mattered in that moment was getting to the noble idiot on the other side, or at least what was left of him. If anything was left of him in the wake of an ancient Martian superweapon.

And then the door had opened, as much of a miracle in his dream as it had been in reality. Juno stood on the other side, bruised and bloody, his left eye a ruined, gory mess- and the best thing Peter had ever seen. In that moment, all the wonders and priceless treasures of the galaxy had nothing on the lady in the doorway. He rushed forward to take Juno in his arms, his eyes wet with the tears he refused to shed, wanting nothing more than the comfort of feeling him solid and whole, the confirmation that somehow, against all odds, he’d managed to escape certain death. That was when the dream turned into a nightmare.

As he’d reached out for him, Juno seemed to crumble like sand at his touch, his single eye filled with indescribable pain as it met Peter’s. As Peter sobbed, fruitlessly trying to think of some solution, begging him to hold on, to not leave him yet, Juno reached out for him, caressing his cheek with fingers that fell away into nothingness. As he’d watched in horror, the man he loved fell apart, flaking away into ash.

And then Peter had been fifteen again, fingers wrapped around the knife plunged into the chest of the only father he’d ever known, choosing a single life over those of thousands in New Kinshasa. Another death of someone he loved for the sake of a world. Another hand caressing his cheek, then falling away into nothingness. He’d felt the weight of those deaths, of the two men he’d held close to his heart, and it was crushing.

And then he’d woken up.

 

Peter breathed deeply, slowly, taking in the calming breaths he’d perfected after two decades of nightmares, and reminded himself that was all it had been. Just another nightmare, just memories and his mind rehashing his own fears and guilt into scenarios that couldn’t touch him in the cold, neon light of Hyperion’s night. Juno was fine, Juno was here with him, Juno would _always_ be with him, and Peter would make sure that he’d never be stuck on the other side of the door as his beloved faced death again. The thought filled him with a fierce pleasure for half a breath before he reached out for Juno and realized there was only empty space where there should have been a beautiful, surly detective.

He sat up quickly, his mind racing as he looked around. The bed next to him was cool to the touch, so Juno had been gone for a while. Peter collected his clothes as he collected his thoughts, staring out over the Hyperion City skyline. He noticed that Juno’s clothes and pistol were gone as well, so his disappearance was at least likely not the result of foul play. Juno had been oddly quiet since they’d left the hospital- even when they’d been wrapped up in each other, Peter had felt that part of Juno was locked away from him, caught up in his own head. Knowing him, he was probably feeling guilty for abandoning Hyperion to its own cycle of corruption and death, like he hadn’t tried to sacrifice himself to save everyone on the planet’s surface hours before, even though nobody would have ever have known what he’d done for them. Like he hadn’t nearly sacrificed himself on the altar of justice a dozen times over, throwing himself between Hyperion City’s innocents and its underworld over and over again. Peter smiled as he dressed, a sentimental quirk of the mouth at the thought of his noble idiot, the picture of moral outrage. He really was sexy when he stood up for the little guy.

He left the hotel room behind, a sizeable cash tip on the bedside table in addition to the cost of the room and all other traces of their presence gone (some habits were hard to break, even when he didn’t have to be invisible anymore.) He headed towards Juno’s apartment, suspecting his nostalgic detective had gone back for some trinket he’d decided he didn’t want to leave behind. He couldn’t help but love him for it, even if he didn’t quite understand it. He’d had some interesting times in Hyperion City, but the only thing on the whole planet he wouldn’t leave behind in a heartbeat was Juno. He felt that same fond smile from earlier rise to his lips at the thought as he opened the door, and then felt it drop as he took in the empty apartment.

The air was dry and stale inside, and dust hung heavy in the air, making it clear the door to the apartment hadn’t been opened in some time. Everything looked the same as it had the last time he’d broken in- Juno’s much abused tuxedo jacket crumpled on the ground, the glass from the whiskey that Juno had insisted on pouring himself before they left still on the coffee table, the half-empty bottle beside it. Peter considered checking the bedroom, but he doubted there was any point- all signs pointed to the fact that he was the first person to have opened the door to this apartment in over a month, since he’d dragged Juno off to catch an uncatchable train.

Peter’s mind started racing, considering scenarios and discarding them as quickly as the cards flew in a game of Rangian Street Poker. He doubted Juno was still wandering the streets- nostalgia or no, Hyperion City’s streets at this hour tended to be unhealthy for anyone who lingered on them too long. It was possible that Juno had gotten into trouble, but unlikely, even with his penchant for ending up in sticky situations- he’d disappeared for over a month and they’d been back in town for less than twelve hours, so it was unlikely that any of his enemies would have already tracked him down, and Juno was more than capable of fending off any common criminal, even down one eye. He doubted that he’d sought out any of his friends for a farewell before leaving Mars- Sasha Wire was off world, he didn’t have his car keys to drive to Oldtown and see Mick Mercury (who was also hard to pin down at the best of times), and Juno was smart enough to know that breaking the news of his departure to Rita in any way other than via comm would result in lots of tears and dramatics that the stoic detective was not emotionally equipped to handle. So where had he gone?

 

Peter looked around the apartment again, feeling a sense of dread building in his gut. He’d ignored the first twinges of it when he woke up alone in the hotel room, writing it off as leftover emotional stimulus from his nightmare combined with the shock of an empty bed instead of warm arms, but now the feeling flared to life, leaving him unable to ignore it any longer. Not that he should be trying to ignore it- he knew his intuition was what had kept him alive and invisible all these years, and he’d learned from several unpleasant experiences to trust those feelings, even when he didn’t want to believe what they were telling him. Like right now, when all his instincts were warning him that the answer to his question was not one that he would like.

But part of Peter was still the kid who had pushed Mag to tell him the truth about his father, even though he’d known the truth would hurt, and that was the part of him that had the reins now. He felt removed from himself as he left the apartment, locking it up behind him and heading back out onto the street, like he was watching a movie on a screen. His feet carried him down a half-familiar path, leading him to a building he knew well, even if he’d only been there twice before- Juno’s office building. Quickly, silently, he scaled the fire escape on the side of the building, avoiding rusting edges and noisy steps with hard-earned experience until he reached the window where he’d first met Juno Steel, still sullen and snarky with half his body hanging out of it. He hesitated on the landing outside, not wanting to look in, afraid of what he might find. But Peter needed the truth, even if it hurt... and so he looked.

And it _hurt_.

Because inside the office, through the warped glass of the window, Juno Steel was curled up on his couch, an empty whiskey bottle dangling from his hand. He looked so much softer when he slept, Peter thought; it was like the hard shell of misery and cynicism he wore like armor fell away from him for a short while, revealing the sad, caring soul he hid so poorly. The kind of man who couldn’t give up on his city, even when he wanted nothing more than to be free of it. Even if it meant giving up someone he might love.

Juno had told him that he couldn’t bear going back to his office, and Peter had understood what he hadn’t said. That if he went back, if he reminded himself of what he was leaving behind, he wouldn’t be able to leave. And just like he’d known what Juno hadn’t said then, he knew what his presence in the office meant now. What it meant for them, and their plan to travel the galaxy together. What it meant for him.

As he watched, Juno shifted, and the bottle slipped from his hand, hitting the floor of the office with a soft thud. Peter quickly moved to the side so he wouldn’t be seen as Juno shot up, his hand automatically reaching for the pistol at his side before he realized where he was. It was odd, watching Juno wake- he could see the moment the weight of the world settled back on his lover’s shoulders, see him shift and bow under the weight like the giant from Earth’s ancient stories. Peter ached to reach out to him, to sooth away the deep lines that creased Juno’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to make his presence known. Instead, he watched as Juno saw the bottle on the floor, watched him realize that was all that had woken him up, watched him as he gave the room another check before settling back onto the couch. He watched him fall asleep again, watched the lines in his face smooth, watched him until the Martian sun rose and the light crept in through the window, gilding and softening the hard planes of Juno’s face. Quietly, he slid open the window and crept over to where Juno slept, careful not to wake him. He hesitated for a moment, then brushed his lips over Juno’s forehead in the barest whisper of a kiss, the polar opposite to the first kiss they had shared in this office. That kiss had been for Juno, part of a show, a part that needed to be played to get what he’d needed from him. This kiss... this kiss was for Peter.

 

And then Peter Nureyev left Juno Steel asleep on his couch, sliding gracefully out the window and closing it behind him without a sound. The only hint that he had ever been there was the spot of warmth on Juno’s forehead that faded between one breath and the next, and the faint, lingering scent in the air- a smell like the spices from some far-away planet. Beyond that, the thief did what he’d always done, since the first time his heart was broken- he disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come cry with me on [tumblr](http://theotherofsteel.tumblr.com/)


End file.
